Night
by Iridesque
Summary: "Looking for Clint?" Bruce asked kindly, her fleeting glance at the door did not go unnoticed. She blushed slightly before nodding. Where was he? "I just wanted to know if he's alright," she confirmed, keeping her voice neutral. When Natasha gets injured on a mission, the rest of the team goes to visit her, except for the one she wants to see the most.
1. Chapter 1

"You'll be fine in a few weeks, but I'm afraid to say that your broken arm isn't the only problem at the moment," the doctor replied, looking at his clipboard intently.

"I'm sorry to say that you'll have to stay here for a while," he smiled almost apologetically at his patient. "If you behave, you'll get out here soon enough," he replied gently before leaving the room.

Natasha cursed in Russian. How could she be stuck in a bed for _two weeks_? It was almost a form of torture. She groaned, sinking into the soft pillow provided for her. It would mean no missions for at least a month!

"Well I guess this is the itsy bitsy spider's web?" a loud voice came from the hallway. She gave another groan, showing her disdain for that one voice's owner. Tony was the first to show his face, peeking in from the side of the door. The rest of them; Thor, Steve, and Bruce, popped their heads in for a quick look around the room.

It was almost laughable really, the boys' expressions when they saw her lying on a bed with a cast on her arm. She stifled the smile before greeting them.

"What happened to you, Nattie?" Tony asked curiously, avoiding a swipe from her free hand. He knew that she hated the nicknames, but it only heightened his amusement.

"Nothing really, the mission didn't go as planned," she answered. Looking around at the questioning looks, she smirked. "All right, everything went wrong and hell broke loose when we arrived and I might have been a little careless," she admitted.

"A little careless?" Steve asked skeptically, inspecting the medical papers on the desk next to her bed. "It says you broke you arm in two places and sprained your wrist, as well as twisted your ankle. You also had a bunch of cuts and bruises; one needed stitches too," he raised his eyebrows. "How careless is a 'little,' Nat?" he asked, a slightly smug look on his face.

She rolled her eyes. "We still got the guy and I survived. Shouldn't you be happy?" she answered his pointed look with a sharp retort. Steve put his hands up in a quick surrender. A smirk of amusement lit up her face.

"Well, _I'm_ relieved to see you alive. What would life be without our snappy, short-tempered little assassin? We're all bored when we're not annoying you, Widow," Tony joked, his arm slung around Bruce's shoulder.

"I'm glad you survived as well, fair maiden! This calls for a feast!" Thor's voice boomed loudly. Natasha winced slightly at the loud voice, her smirk growing larger. The rest of the boys chuckled, watching Thor describe the feasts in Asgard animatedly.

It was almost funny how they all ended up keeping in contact, and the Stark Tower became sort of an 'Avengers hang out place.' Though it wasn't much of a 'family,' the Avengers, as a team wasn't so bad after all. It was nice having a group of people wanting her alive for a change. In a way, it was the family she never had, one consisting of mismatched, screwed up, and misguided 'heroes' maybe; or a 'time bomb,' as Bruce called it, but a family nonetheless.

She looked at the four faces surrounding her bed, almost savoring the absurdity of the moment. It was the first time she had seen Thor in normal clothing, and Steve had brought flowers and a get-well card along with him. Tony was being his usual _annoying _self, and Bruce had brought along a bag. She assumed it was take-out food. It was almost strange to see them without uniforms, looking quite casual.

Not bad for a 'Get Well' party. Not bad at all.

"I hope you like the food we got you," Steve smiled hopefully. He scratched his neck, slightly embarrassed. "We tried to make you cupcakes, but we sort of burned them, so Pepper helped us make some brownies for you. They're in the bag with the take-out," Steve half grimaced, half smiled, his face slightly red with embarrassment.

"We tried to get Robin Hood to tell us what your favorite food was. It wasn't necessary though, since Thor here completely forgot about the oven until two hours later, and we just got you some pasta anyways," Tony chuckled.

She smiled, giving them her thanks, but the thought of Clint crossed her mind. Where was Agent Barton anyway? Was he hurt? He often came to visit her on the rare occasion that she had to stay overnight at the hospital.

He was always the jokester in his own way. She could remember the time when he came in silently, crept up on her and screamed, "Boo!" into her ear and almost gave her a heart attack. There was another time when he came in with flowers and feigned a British accent for the whole day.

For a second, her eyes drifted towards the door, wondering if he was just late as usual.

"Looking for Clint, are you?" Bruce asked kindly, her fleeting glance didn't go unnoticed. She blushed slightly before nodding.

"I just wanted to know if he's alright," she confirmed, keeping her voice neutral.

"Lover boy isn't here, dearie," Tony chuckled. "He's supposed to be next door for a check-up, and he's staying there for a day or two, but we couldn't find him earlier."

"He might be at the debriefing or something," Bruce shrugged, "You know, with Director Fury. I'm sure he'll come visit you soon, right? He was on the rescue team after all."

For the first time, she's not so sure.

_read and review + constructive criticism = better quality writing and [hopefully] more updates!_


	2. Chapter 2

"How can you be so reckless, Natasha?" Clint's voice demanded angrily. He paced around the hotel room they were sharing for the mission. "You could've been killed tonight, and I'll be damned if you're going back there again tomorrow!" he snarled, slamming his fist on the table.

"_I'm not careless_," she seethed, her arms akimbo. She grabbed his shirt collar. "I knew what I was doing, and it wasn't my fault that gang warfare happens everywhere around here! How was I supposed to know if those buffoons didn't? I got out alive, so drop it!" she hissed, turning the other way.

"You knew that something like this was going to happen and you stayed to fight! You could've blown your cover! How am I supposed to stay down if you got hurt? You can't make me worry over you like this. You could've gotten your sorry ass killed, Nat!" he roared, eyes blazing with anger. Was that a small trace of fear in his voice?

"Yeah, S.H.I.E.L.D's top assassin, the Black Widow would totally get killed by some drunkard who couldn't even shoot properly. You underestimate me, Barton," she snapped, rolling her eyes. The man could be so _dense and overprotective_ sometimes.

"That's not excuse to be so damn carless, Natasha," he growled, clenching his fists. "What if you died? What am I supposed to tell Fury? That I let you go in there unprotected? That I just watched you die?"

"I had a job to do and I did it, so just drop it alright?" her voice was dangerously quiet.

"No, I'm not going to drop it," he retorted stubbornly. "I'm not letting you go in there alone tomorrow night, and that's final," he announced before storming off towards the exit and slamming the door behind him.

She winced at the sound. He was going to the bar to get a drink, just as he always did. She clenched her fists, breathing deeply. She was going to get the job done, no matter what, and she didn't need an overprotective hawk watching her every move.

xxx

_She should've known_. He warned her the day before and like always, she had ignored had been onto her the moment she had snapped out a gun and shot the other gang's rookie member when he cornered her in the alley, and she had unknowingly and _carelessly_ fallen into their trap. Without her weapons, tied up in an empty attic, there wasn't much she could do but struggle against the heavy ropes binding her hands and feet.

"I heard we received a gift, what do we have here?" the arrogant bastard grabbed her chin, smirking. "I'm afraid your plan to kill me has failed, little spider. Now I believe you have some information for us as well. Who sent you here?"

She was silent, glaring at the ground beneath her. Maybe it would've been a better idea to tell Clint before she left. _He would be furious if he knew where she was. __She almost groaned. Another lecture was definitely awaiting her. _

SLAP! A stinging sensation spread across her face. She could taste blood in her mouth, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of her cry.

"ANSWER ME!" the man roared, holding her up by neck. She made a gagging sound as her air supply was cut off. With an angry cry, he threw her against the cabinet.

She winced as the glass shattered, sending pieces and fragments scattering across the ground. She could feel the warm blood seeping through the flimsy dress she was in. The large cut on her leg would need stitches, she assessed.

"I'm afraid your time is up, Widow. Since the cat's obviously got your tongue, I'm afraid it's time that the boot finally crushes the spider," the man smirked, snapping his fingers.

Two men grabbed her arm, twisting it behind her. The slammed her into the brick wall. She heard a crack. Gasping at the sudden pain, the men smirked.

"Perhaps my guards would like to have their way with you first, Miss Romanoff," the gang's ringleader smirked, walking away. The guards laughed, not believing their luck.

Her breath hitched in her throat. It wasn't supposed to end this way, not at all. She closed her eyes to think as the guard pushed her against the wall, groping at her chest.

CRASH! Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of breaking glass. Caught off guard, the guard had little time to react as Natasha's legs slammed into his kneecap, before knocking his head with her own. Looking up, she could see that an arrow had knocked out the other guard.

"Natasha!" a familiar voice rang. She groaned. It was Clint. She prepared herself for his lecture, but she only felt the ropes loosen. "Come on, we have a man to catch," he growled roughly, racing down the stairs. She shook off the remaining ropes before turning towards the staircase as well.

She stumbled. The guard was still conscious. She hissed in pain as her ankle twisted sideways, and she crashed into the ground, landing on the broken arm. Cursing herself for being so careless, she quickly stomped on the guard's hand. He screamed in pain as the loud crunch was heard.

"Next time, you might consider whom you're trying to harass before you actually do it," she seethed, grabbing the gun on the floor and shooting him.

Three times in the head.  
Twice at the throat.  
Once in the heart.

She collapsed on the ground, her legs numb, like the greasy take-out noodles she would eat back at the apartment on rainy days. She ignored the piercing pain in her arm as she leaned against the wall, waiting for the reinforcements to arrive.

The last thing she could remember was hearing Clint's voice, softly telling her to stay awake, that they were near the hospital. She had asked whether the man got away. He smiled, shaking his head and telling her to relax; everything would be alright, he said.

Her vision had faded to darkness.  
The next thing she knew, she was on the clean white sheets of a hospital bed, her arm in a cast, a doctor at her side, and Clint nowhere to be seen.

xxx

**Author's comments:** I thought it would be better to just make a flashback as a chapter, so now you know what happened before she was hospitalized. Read and Review! (:


	3. Chapter 3

Clint Barton was never one to play by the rules.

It had been two days since the mission. Two days since she was hurt. Two days in the hospital, wondering whether she was all right or not. Tony had eventually gone down to his room, wondering why he wasn't visiting Natasha. Apparently, she had asked about him. He just smiled, pointed at his own quota of bandages, cuts, and bruises, and Tony had left him alone after that.

"Don't worry, Hawkster, she's fine. She just broke her arm and twisted an ankle. A few bruises and cuts here and there, they'll heal pretty quickly," he had commented when Clint asked about Natasha. He couldn't help but notice the smirk on Tony's face as he left.

It was, of course, unorthodox, perhaps even prohibited to walk around the hospital at night. He was supposed to stay in his room for an extra day or two, so the doctor could make sure he didn't reopen the multiple cuts he received from crashing through the glass.

Then again, when did he ever listen to the doctor? When had he actually followed the nurses' advice?

His began to mull over his options on the brisk walk towards Natasha' room. Even though he was wearing shoes, his footsteps barely made a sound. Silent and lost in thought, he quickly arrived at her door and entered into her quarters.

She seemed almost serene when asleep. Her face was calm and she wasn't as tense as she usually was. A tired smile adorned his face. It was rare to see her sleep dreamlessly.

He sat down on the chair next to her bed and took her hand in his own. He hesitated, lost in his own thoughts. It was the first time he had gone voluntarily to see her since the incident.

Except maybe, it wasn't voluntary at all. If he had kept his promise to himself, he would've been watching her at all times. If he was a little more careful, she might've stayed. If he didn't argue with her, he might have gotten some sense into her head.

And ultimately, if he had gotten there earlier, she wouldn't have been hurt.

If only he had known. If only he had arrived faster, or he was more careful. Maybe if he didn't pick a fight with her the day before the incident. She would be with the rest of the team; hanging out and having a ball back at Stark Tower.

If only their last words hadn't been said out of anger and hatred.

If only they had been laughing instead, talking about silly things and watching television, or even preparing for the mission instead of arguing about it. _Reckless_, that was the last word he had called her.

How did he allow his words to drive her over the edge? She should be with the rest of the team, smiling and having a good time, instead of being in a hospital, confined to a bed. He knew how much she hated the hospital beds.

The truth was, he missed her more than he would ever care to admit. He missed her reserved smile, her sarcasm, even her snappy persona when they would argue about trivial things. It was common to see them bicker like an old married couple, then think back on it and laugh it off.

He smiled at the thought of her laugh; she would flare her nose and give a small snort, and he would finally see a genuine smile, something he would never be tired of. There were even times when she laughed so hard that he started to laugh as well. They both ended up with tears in their eyes, forgetting what they were laughing about. He smiled to himself.

Oh how he missed her laughter.

**Author's Comments:** I'm so sorry it took so long! I wanted a friend to edit it before posting this, just in case. I hope you didn't mind. As usual, read and review! Constructive criticism = better quality and faster updates! C:


	4. Chapter 4

A week in the hospital was already driving her mad.

She hated the antiseptic smell of the rooms, the clean white walls and the fact that _she wasn't allowed to leave._

She could deal with the smell and the numb pain coming from her wounds, but boredom was something completely uncalled for. She hated the antsy feeling; the prickle on her skin from not moving around was more than irritating. She groaned, leaning back and staring at the ceiling once more, counting the cracks again.

"Hey Natasha," a knock came from the door. She turned around to see Steve, walking towards her with a small bag in his hand. "I brought you some fresh fruit, you know, if you want it," he grinned, setting it down on the small table. "I thought you'd like something different for a change and hospital food isn't exactly the best, you know what I mean?" he chuckled, running his hand through his hair.

"Hey Steve," she greeted. The rest of the team often took turns visiting her. The day before, Tony had brought a box of cookies shaped as spiders. If she had a knife in her hand, she wouldn't have hesitated before driving it through his arm. The truth is, even though her name was the Black Widow, she _hated_ spiders with a passion.

It had taken half an hour to finally kick him out of the room.

"How are you, Natasha?" Steve asked, plopping down on the chair next to her bed. Out of the rest of the Avengers, Steve was the easiest to get along with. He wasn't loud, like Thor, or aggravating like Tony. Bruce was in the same boat, preferring to keep quiet and stick to his work. It was just the Hulk she was a little wary of.

Steve was definitely the easiest to get along with.

"I hate being stuck in this room, but the arm's feeling better," she sighed, sitting up. Out of habit, she turned towards the door, expecting to see Clint.

"He still hasn't come to see you, has he?" Steve sighed. It wasn't a question, more of a statement. She nodded, her eyes clouded with worry. Was he still angry at her? Perhaps Fury had sent him on a mission. Maybe he no longer wanted to be her partner? Under her calm demeanor, she was almost panicking.

"How is he?" she asked in a softer voice.

"He's fine, but he's been… avoiding the lot of us. He leaves pretty early, and he says he has paper work to do, and he comes back much later than he used to. Do you think he drinks or something? He doesn't look drunk when he comes back though." Steve answered, looking slightly worried as well.

He was lying to them. He would never go early to do something as_ trivial _as paperwork. He was terrible at it, and Fury knew that. Why would he have paperwork assigned to him?

"Are you sure he's not on any missions or anything?" she asked disbelievingly.

"I'm positive he's still around. I just saw him this morning!" Steve exclaimed. "I'll go see if I can get Tony to have a word with him," he promised.

He hesitated. "I thought he'd be the first one to see you, actually. Did something happen between you two?" he asked curiously.

"We argued before I went into the mission," she said plaintively. "He said I was being reckless so I went without him," she admitted, a blush seeping into her cheeks.

"Didn't you say you were being a 'little' careless the day before? That doesn't seem like a little to me," Steve replied, amusement evident in his voice. "Anyways, Clint doesn't seem like someone who would ignore you when he was angry. I mean he really likes you, doesn't he?"

She gave him a strange look.

"I mean, you know. As partners, you guys do all these missions together, you know," Steve stuttered, his face turning bright red. "I meant that you guys care about each other's backs and uh-"

"I know what you meant, Captain," she smirked, watching the tomato-red complexion spread across her teammate's face.

She knew completely. After years of working with Clint, one thing she had picked up was how easily he would forgive and forget. There were multiple times where agents would mess up something big, and he would still trust them with another job. He rarely ratted anyone out, and after a lecture, he'd go back to business.

She was confused. He used to visit her when she was in the hospital, no matter what. If he was willing to forgive blundering idiots at S.H.I.E.L.D, why wasn't he here to see his partner?

**Author's note:** oh gosh I'm so sorry it's so late! I planned to upload it earlier, but I have a bunch of summer classes, internship, fostering a dog, etc. to worry about, and I wanted to look it over, but I didn't really have time to do so. If there are mistakes, tell me! I'll try to update faster, I'm really sorry. Well anyway. Read and Review, as usual. I love you guys, thanks for being patient with me!


	5. Chapter 5

**Ugh. Sorry for the wait again! Thank you so much to everyone who's viewed/faved/reviewed this story, and thanks for your patience! All the mistakes here are mine, and well. I'm not too pleased with a lot of things honestly, but if I keep editing, I'll never stop. So yeah. Enjoy anyway! **

"Hey Natasha. Tony told me that you were all right, but I had to see for myself. I waited until you were asleep, like now. I'm sorry that you won't be able to talk to me, but you know. It's for my own safety. I don't want to get slapped when visiting you. I'm sorry for making you mad. I hope you'll forgive me for that. Get better soon, alright Nat?"

"Hey. This morning, I had to tell Fury what happened. Don't worry, I didn't tell him that you sneaked out. I told him that they found out your plan and disconnected the line instead. He's not angry with you, but you probably already know that. I'd be angry with you for leaving me, but I'm not. I guess I'm just angry with myself for yelling at you. I wish we had ended the mission on better terms though. I'll see you soon, Tasha."

"If you saw me now, you'd be laughing. Actually, never mind. You'd be mad at me for not visiting you in the daytime. I'm sorry about that. You're just more… peaceful at night, and it's less dangerous. I don't want to risk damage to my internal organs or my face, you know. I won't get slapped when you're asleep, at least. I miss you, but I can't… I'm sorry. I'm not ready to see you when you're awake, at least not yet. I don't want to see you angry with me, so I'm waiting. Maybe you won't be so mad at me when you're all better. I'll wait until then."

"Hey Nat, you're getting better. It's been really… dull without you around. The rest of the team misses you, unlike what I assume you usually think. People do care. At least I do. I wonder what will happen if you wake up to see me right now, holding your hand and talking to you. You can't hear me when you're sleeping though, and I must seem like such a coward right now, not even showing my face when you're awake. The cut's almost completely healed and the report says your arm is healing quickly. You'll be out of the hospital in a week, I suppose. I hope you feel better."

"Steve came to see me today. He told me that you asked about me and that I should come and visit you. I sort of… just ignored him and walked away. I'm not really sure why I haven't gone to see you yet. Every time I head towards the hospital to see you… well, I don't know. It's different every time. I guess I'm just not ready to face what I've done to you. If I hadn't distracted you… you must be bored without me, or mad at me still. I hope you're not too mad though, and I hope you'll be able to forgive me. I have to admit, the reason why I'm not coming to see you is kind of stupid. Actually, it's really stupid, but… well, I'm just not all that smart, am I? I don't want to see the disappointment on your face, all right? I miss your smile, the small one that you have when we're alone. I miss you, so get better, for me alright?"

"I feel really bad, well sort of. It's my entire fault you were hurt, and I don't want to see you get hurt again. I promised I wouldn't let you get hurt, but- I saw what they were doing to you and I overreacted. I'm sorry I didn't' arrive earlier as well. I shouldn't have yelled at you either. That's probably the reason you got angry anyway. I guess they're also reasons why I don't want to visit you when the rest of the team's around, and I don't want to make promises I can't keep. I promised you I wouldn't blame myself for things I couldn't control, but I am right now. I can't help it. I'm sorry for breaking promises, and I hope you can forgive me. Again."

"I miss you and I can't wait to see you. Maybe you'll wake up when I'm here visiting you some time. I doubt it though; you were always a deep sleeper. It's not a bad thing really; I like watching you sleep, if it's not being creepy that way. You seem happier when you sleep. I wonder what you dream about. Again, I'm not being creepy. It's just… there's less chance of you waking up and slapping me silly when you're asleep, and I'd like to keep it that way, at least for a little while. I hope you're happy though, with the rest of the team coming to see you. I hope they're good company, I bet they are. Well, good night Tash. I hope you have a really nice dream. I miss you,"

_The rest of the Avengers would never know that Clint Barton sneaked out every night to visit Natasha. He would head to her room, sit down and talk to the patient lying asleep on her bed, wishing that he had the guts to do something different. _


	6. Chapter 6

"So, any idea to what happened between those two lovebirds?" Tony's loud voice rang across the lounge where the rest of the team was gathered. With a martini in his hand, he sauntered towards the couches.

"Our two allies have not had any contact recently, am I correct?" Thor asked, furrowing his brows in thought. "Were they lovers?"

Tony almost choked on his drink. If Clint had heard that, he would've strangled the thunder boy. He coughed, trying to clear his throat. "Not that I'm aware of yet," he smirked.

"I'm not sure if I'm supposed to… ask about this, but have you noticed how Clint's never around, and how he's always coming back so late? Not to be a bother to them, but what's up with that?" Bruce asked observantly, a hand stroking his chin.

"All I know is that Clint hasn't been visiting Natasha, and they had a row before she broke her arm or something," Steve admitted. He almost immediately regretted his words when he saw Tony's grin.

"Ah, heartbreak and misery! It's just like some soppy love show on television!" he waved his hands around dramatically.

"I doubt it, Mr. Detective. You don't even know if they're dating. They probably argued and maybe Clint's still angry at Natasha, or he's worried that she'll be angry at him." Bruce commented, leaning back into the sofa.

"Clint won't stay angry with Natasha for that long, will he? I mean, they're partners and he doesn't seem like the 'holding a grudge' type of guy anyway," Steve asked, a look of genuinely confusion scrawled on his face.

"Perhaps they will reawaken their senses if one of us discusses the matter with the archer," Thor suggested, standing up.

"Any volunteers?" Tony smirked, looking around. Almost immediately, the rest of the crew leaned back into their seats, looking away.

"I guess that's another job for the man of iron," he grumbled, heading towards the elevator. It was time to pay a visit to the bird's nest.

xxx

"Hey Legolas, I need to talk to you," Tony's voice came from Clint's door. Clint groaned, knowing how obnoxious the other man was.

"What?" he snapped, he had been polishing his bow and he didn't intend to stop. There was only so much to do though, until one was bored, and he couldn't deny it. Without interaction with the rest of the team or any missions to go on, he really didn't have much to do at all.

"Calm down, Barton. I just wanted to have a little chat you know. Want a drink?" he asked casually, sitting down on a chair out in the balcony. "Come over here, bird boy, let's talk,"

Clint sighed, gently putting his bow back into the case. He slowly moved towards the chair opposite to Tony, wondering why he was there in the first place. "What do you want?" he repeated his question.

"Call me a curious man if you like, but I was just wondering how you've been doing recently," Tony asked with a grin on his face, sipping at his drink.

"If that's all you're here for, then you might as well leave. There's no information for you this time, Stark," he grumbled suspiciously, his piercing eyes never leaving the other man's face.

"That's not all I'm here for, but I don't want to be blunt. You know, respect, right?" Tony joked, raising his drink for a toast. Right. Clint wasn't drinking anything. He quickly placed his drink down again.

"Leave," Clint said plaintively. He wasn't in a mood for small talk. He narrowed his eyes. What was he up to in the first place? Did he want a favor? "If you want something, you might as well say it now,"

"Oh all right," Tony grumbled dramatically. "I was just wondering why you haven't been visiting our little spider at the hospital. Weren't you two close?"

Clint's gaze dropped. His knees suddenly seemed much more fascinating than it was moments ago. "She needs her space and I don't want to intrude on it. She doesn't need to see me," he replied softly.

"She's asked about you, you do know that right?" came Tony's casual reply.

"I guess so, but I don't think she wants to see me. I'll only be a bother," Clint replied without missing a beat, looking out the window. Just across the street was the hospital where Natasha was staying in. It wasn't hard at all to break in, and after a week, it was just going through the motions all over again.

"Why not? Did something happen?" Tony's smirk grew. Maybe if he never became Iron Man, he would make a good detective.

"Nothing that happened is of your concern, Tony," his gaze hardened and his arms tensed, a sign that often meant he didn't want to talk.

"Hey calm down, man. If you want to talk to me though, I might be some help to you," suggested Tony, his hands up in surrender. "I just wanted to know what happened,"

"We argued about something. I called her something I shouldn't have and it's my fault she was hurt, is that enough information for you?" he growled. Clint's expression was one of frustration and suspicion… and was that a trace of regret there?

"What was the argument about? It can't be that bad. You're probably avoiding her for something that she doesn't blame you for," Tony kept pushing for more answers. The hawk wasn't telling everything, he had a feeling about that.

"I called her reckless, she went in without me, and she got hurt because of me," Clint's expression was indifferent from the one before. "Now can you go away and leave me alone?"

"Sure thing, hawk boy. Steve said the same thing about the argument," he smirked, backing up at the expression of murder on Clint's face. He headed for the door quickly.

"Just so you know, Natasha misses you just as much as you miss her. Why don't you be a man and go visit your lover? It can't turn out worse than the mission, right? If you need someone to help, the team's here for you," Tony's voice had a tone of dismissal as the door closed behind him.

Clint's thoughtful gaze flickered towards the window once more.

**Author's Comments:** I thought it would be interesting to see it from everyone else's point of view, and finally someone confronting Clint about it. Hope you liked the chapter, and thanks for keeping up with my extremely slow updates! I might take a little more time for the next one, as school just started. Thank you so much; read and review!


	7. Chapter 7

**Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry guys. School started, lots of work, writer's block… yadda yadda. So I hope you didn't mind the long wait for the last chapter. All the mistakes are mine, unfortunately. I still hope you enjoy it, and I hope it was worth the wait! Thank you for everyone who's read this, and thanks for all of your support!**

He always returned.

Perhaps it was because he owed her something, or she was injured. Perhaps it was because he missed her more than he could admit.

'Almost as much as much as a drowning man misses air,' he laughed at the thought.

Taking a deep breath and clinging onto the line, he took a step towards his destination; he rarely used the grappling hook arrow besides these nightly visits. Unfortunately, Natasha's room wasn't on the first ten floors of the hospital. Nope. In fact, it was almost near the top, Fury's orders.

Stealthily, (though he could never truly imitate the way Natasha would climb into hotel rooms) he popped open her room's window and climbed in. She didn't stir; he closed the window as quickly as he opened it, so a draft wouldn't sneak in with him.

He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Slowly, he moved towards the bed, taking his seat in the plastic chair next to her. She was cold; his calloused fingers wrapped around her almost delicate hands.

His voice was soft, unusual for someone like Clint Barton; known for making sarcastic jokes at every turn; for often trying to poke fun out of everyone when he wasn't on duty; for the often cold and silent killer on the roof of the tallest building, ready to aim and shout orders at rookie agents. Slowly, he rested his head on Natasha's stomach, finding comfort in her peaceful, slumbering body.

Natasha's eyes fluttered open in surprise. Why was there something holding her hand? She stiffened slightly, her eyes wide and calculating. Was this a plot to take her life? Her eyes scanned the room, but nothing was really out of place. Looking down, she expected the worst.

Her posture visibly relaxed at seeing the sandy-blonde locks of her favorite archer. 'So that was what he was up to,' she mused with a stifled chuckle. Her mind was racing; why didn't he come in the daytime when she was awake then? Hesitantly, she squeezed his hand, placing her other on his head.

Clint jolted awake, a gasp caught in his throat. He bit his lip; did she wake up? Was she furious with him? He looked up, his eyes meeting her bright green ones. Quickly, he leaned back into his chair, almost falling over.

"Oh god, Nat! Um… I didn't know you were awake. Oh god, I just- it's just that- I- I'm not trying to- fuck," he stuttered, trying desperately to find coherence in his own words. "I really screwed this up didn't I?" he tensed, his shoulders hunched in resignation.

She almost laughed. He was just so… silly? Was that the word? Whatever it was, she had never seen him this way, even when he was messing with everyone else around the tower. "You know, a simple hi would've been enough. It's a lot less wordy too," she smirked.

Even under the cover of darkness, she could see his face turn bright red. "I- I'm sorry?" he muttered meekly, "You shouldn't have sneaked up here like that, you're not a creeper, Clint Barton. Damn," he reminded himself under his breath.

Natasha's lips turned up in a smile. "You're not a creeper, Clint, though I didn't expect to wake up with your face on my stomach," she mocked. This was too good of an opportunity to pass.

His silent groan was almost deafening. He ran his hand through his hair awkwardly. "Sorry about that and everything else," he apologized quietly, getting up. "You probably- probably need your sleep, so I think- I think I should go," he stumbled on his words, backing up slowly.

Frustration started rising in Natasha's throat. "No you don't, Clint Barton," her voice had a tone of warning in it. "You're not leaving after until we talk and I find out why you only come at night," she demanded, sitting up. He flinched in response.

Seeing his eyes widen, a shiver ran through her body; a seed of confusion planted itself in her mind. Was he- was he afraid of her? She tensed slightly, drawing limbs closer to her body. She bit her lip before speaking; her voice was small like a child's.

"Why didn't you come?"

Clint's felt his heart clench; he was the one who made his partner like this. Why _didn't_ he come? The 'reasons not to come' list seemed completely ridiculous now. Heat rose to his cheeks.

"I didn't think you'd want to see me," he mumbled, his hands crammed into his pockets awkwardly. "If you were mad at me before, then you must be even more furious,"

She sighed, a frown etched on her features. Did he really see her like that?

"I wasn't mad at you, at least not when I woke up," she started, her thoughtful gaze sincere and reserved. "I thought you stayed away because you were still angry with how careless I was. I'm sorry about that," she murmured, sinking down into her bed.

"No, don't apologize, Nat. It's not your fault; it's all mine. If only I didn't- perhaps if I had warned you-" he started, his eyes wild. He took a breath.

"Maybe if I didn't yell at you like that, you wouldn't have gone. If there's anyone to blame- it's me," he groaned, his head in his hands. It seemed bad enough to confront an angry Natasha, but an apologetic one was even worse.

"Why are _you_ apologizing then?" her confusion surprised him. "It's not your fault, Clint. I _was_ careless, and I learned my lesson, alright? Maybe this was all just a bit of confusion," she spoke with a soft voice and a small smile. She hesitated, her hand about to touch his shoulder.

"I was arrogant and annoying, and I shouldn't have told you off. I guess karma got me too," he looked up, leaning towards her touch. He smiled weakly; it was almost a grimace. There would be a lot of sorting out to do. His eyes were tired and weary, almost bloodshot from the recent lack of sleep.

"Friends again?" she smiled, leaning back into the pillows, waiting for sleep to envelop her. It had been a long day.

"Friends it is," he confirmed with a smirk, resting his head on her stomach once more. He was finally getting his long-awaited rest.

"So… plan Blackhawk worked?" Tony grinned, turning towards Steve. Visiting hours had just opened, and they had arrived in time to see everyone's favorite assassins sleeping next to each other.

"Fine, I guess you win," Steve grumbled as Bruce snickered beside him. Tony smirked, enjoying the scene in front of them. He turned towards Steve, whispering something into his ear.

"Oh, by the way, you owe me ten bucks,"


End file.
